


The Dirty Pervy Ladies Club

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Explicit Sexual Content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-11
Updated: 2007-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Neville has a dirty little secret





	The Dirty Pervy Ladies Club

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for the _**Officially Unofficial Don Juan de Neville Fest.**_  


* * *

At first, you never said anything because you had thought it was just a good dream. You know— _those_ kinds of dreams, every boy gets them—where girls are not only _not_ sneering at you in derision but they are actually nice to you. In fact, more than nice--where they let you look at them all you like, even let you look at them without the clothes, and then they do things to you that make you terrified and thrilled and embarrassed all at once. And then you wake up all sticky and find out that you are still the same stupid, bumbling loser you always were, and that girls never speak to you unless it is to laugh at you.

 

Except—there was no waking up this time, there was only you going back to your room with wide eyes and a stupid smile on your face that made you the object of even more derision, though you really didn’t care at that point. And the next day at breakfast, when you finally had the courage to meet her eyes, she had the nerve to wink at you, giving you a smile that was full of secrets shared.

 

_Of course_ you went back when she asked you to. You were happy to do _anything_ to please her, and—oh, Merlin—you did things you never thought you’d want to do, and even more surprising, you enjoyed them thoroughly. When you asked her why she chose you, she said it was because you were so sweet and anxious to please that she couldn’t resist you. 

 

You developed quite a passion for Quidditch that year, because you liked to watch her soar around the pitch, thinking ‘she’s mine,’ even though deep down you knew it wasn’t true—not really. The other boys in the dorms liked to brag about their romantic exploits, and you knew that they were full of shite, because they had no idea how things really worked. You could have exposed them as liars, but what was the point? They’d never believe you. And anyway, it was nice to have a secret like that—it felt good to know that they would have been wild with jealousy and full of admiration if they only knew. 

 

When you told her you loved her, she simply smiled and told you that you didn't really, and that some day you would understand. You _did_ understand, when you saw her walking hand in hand with another bloke in Hogsmeade, a bloke even older than she was, with a handsome face and a confident swagger. She must have known you saw her, but you hoped she didn’t suspect that you cried that night, alone in your bed, aching physically, feeling like you’d truly left that sweet, innocent, bumbling boy behind forever. 

 

The next day, you saw things much more clearly, and weeks later, when one of her friends approached you, wanting a similar arrangement, you weren’t all that surprised. There have been several since then, mostly Quidditch players--they seem to have some sort of an information network going. You sometimes wondered how the conversations went (oh, go see Longbottom, he’s a good bloke, he’ll show you a good time, he won't make any demands on you or spread the tale around the school) though you were familiar enough with the results. 

 

Over time you’d made his way around all four houses, though you could have been knocked over with a feather when approached by your first Slytherin. It made the daily torments of Malfoy and his gang much more tolerable when you knew that you were servicing their women in ways they'd never dreamt of. 

 

In the meantime, your confidence grew, and after a while, you began to want more—to know you _deserved_ more. It was well past time to find someone who’d kiss you during the daylight.


End file.
